


heartbeats

by orphan_account



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, also i made up half of the characters, rip jeremy, this entire fic was an accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jeremy thinks that after some four months of putting up with Jean’s acerbic sarcasm and withering criticism of the Trojans’ teamwork-building exercises, theydefinitelycount as friends. Never mind that the one time he’d said as much to Jean, he’d been met with a disdainful glare and a raised middle finger.So their friendship is a work in progress. Jeremy can handle that.(In which Jean stays with Jeremy's family over the summer, Jeremy tries to hide his feelings and fails spectacularly, Laila dispenses sage advice, and no one knows where Alvarez is. Or, the time when Jean and Jeremy fell in something like love.)





	1. Chapter 1

“No,” Jean says, “absolutely not.”

There are a handful of things that have always defined Jeremy, for as long as he can remember. One of them is his toothy grin, because braces weren’t exactly a high priority when it was as much as they could do to get food on the table every night, and another one is his sportsmanship. And then there’s his complete inability to let go of a crazy idea once he’s thought of it. 

Especially when the crazy idea is meant to help one of his friends, and Jeremy thinks that after some four months of putting up with Jean’s acerbic sarcasm and withering criticism of the Trojans’ teamwork-building exercises, they _definitely_ count as friends. Never mind that the one time he’d said as much to Jean, he’d been met with a disdainful glare and a raised middle finger. 

So their friendship is a work in progress. Jeremy can handle that. 

“Come on, we live on the beach,” Jeremy says, his enthusiasm unrelenting. “It’s going to be fun. Besides, it’s Trojans tradition.” 

“It’s _tradition_ to stay with your family over summer break?” 

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, flashing a bright grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um yeah so i thought that i saved this as a draft and kind of forgot about it, but then i realized that i'd accidentally published it lmao. tbh i have no idea where this is going but i don't want to just abandon it, so i'll keep updating~


	2. Chapter 2

**Laila [06:01]**  
pls tell me it isnt true

**Me [06:03]**  
… what

**Laila [06:03]**  
jean moreau staying with u over break

 **Laila [06:03]**  
jean ‘look at me wrong and ill knife u’ moreau

 **Me [06:04]**  
uh.

 **Laila [06:04]**  
,, do u even fear death

 

Jeremy is leaning against his car, waiting on the edge of the campus. By now most of the Trojans have already left, going to their family homes or on a backpacking trip like Laila and Alvarez, and the campus feels almost deserted. Still, he doesn’t hear Jean approaching until he’s right next to him, tall and dressed in black as always.

“Oh, hey, man,” Jeremy says with a bright smile, tilting his head back to look up at Jean. “Let me guess, not a morning person?”

Jean looks down, pushing a hand through his sleep-mussed black hair and the corner of his lips rising up in something that could almost be a smile. “No.”

“No worries, you can sleep on the way there,” Jeremy says, opening the trunk so that Jean can put away his duffel bag. “Uh, hopefully. The suspension on this thing is shit.”

He isn’t lying, but Jean still manages to drift off, leaning against the window in a crumpled up position that can’t possibly be comfortable. It doesn’t surprise Jeremy; in the first few weeks after Jean had transferred to the Trojans, they’d gotten used to seeing him falling half asleep wherever he was sitting in the middle of the day, when the Ravens’ nights had begun. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t a reminder of how isolated the Ravens had been, cut off from the world and left alone with Riko’s cruelty.

The miles roll past as Jean sleeps, and the landscape slowly starts to change from the golden fields surrounding the university to craggy hills covered with blooming flowers. Something lightens in Jeremy’s heart when he sees the ocean beyond them, vast and a deep shade of azure. There’s a sound as Jean wakes up next to him, and Jeremy looks over at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve seen the ocean before, right?”

“Yes,” Jean says shortly, his expression shuttered. Jeremy hesitates, uncertain if he should say anything else about the subject, but then there’s a hum from his phone.

“Oh, could you check that?” Jeremy says without thinking. “It might be my family asking when we’re going to arrive.”

Jean hums and reaches back to get the phone, his shoulder just barely brushing against Jeremy’s, and checks the message. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s an amused twist to his mouth when he looks at Jeremy. “Laila wants to know what you want engraved on your headstone.”

“Oh, damn,” Jeremy says, remembering her text messages from earlier. He gives Jean an apologetic look. “Tell her she’s going to be running laps for the rest of the season.”

“All right,” Jean says, typing the message, and a moment later he huffs out a breath of air that’s on the edge of a laugh. Jeremy glances at him, his lips pulling into a smile.

“What did she say?”

“She told me not to worry about it,” Jean says, the barest hint of laughter still clinging to his voice and highlighting the sound of his accent. “She’s going to kill you herself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy says, rolling his eyes. “As if she could get out of running laps that easily. Anything from my family?”

Jean pauses. “There are many… ah, how are they called, the symbols?”

“Emojis?”

“Yeah,” Jean says. “Your family seems enthusiastic.”

“Oh, ‘enthusiastic’ is an understatement,” Jeremy says, giving Jean a toothy smile and accelerating slightly. The sun is shining through the windows, and he can see the ocean over the cliffs, and it already feels like home. “You’ll see when we get there.”

 

The moment of silence after Jeremy rings the doorbell, he thinks, is what poets mean when they write about the calm before the storm. It only lasts for a second, and then the door is slamming open and there’s a sudden cacophony of eager voices and arms outstretched for a hug. His mother is the first one, wrapping Jeremy in a tight embrace. “Oh, Jeremy, _mi corazón_ , how are you? How is school? It’s been so long!”

Before he can answer, she turns to Jean and gives him a hug, too. He stiffens for a moment, and then pats her back awkwardly, looking shellshocked. “And you must be Jean! I’m so happy that you’re going to be staying with us for the summer, dear.”

The rest of his family is next: his stepfather ruffling Jeremy’s hair, his older sister Lauren raising an eyebrow. “You should have told us he was so handsome, Jeremy!”

Jeremy sticks his tongue out her, because maturity never seems to matter much when he’s back home, and leans down to scoop up his little sister. He gives her a kiss on the cheek, and she giggles, patting Jeremy’s hair. “You missed me, right, Sophie?”

“Uh huh,” she says, staring at Jean curiously. “Who is he?”

“He’s my friend,” Jeremy says, smiling at Jean, and for a moment he smiles back.

 

 **Laila [06:01]**  
have i told u how much i love u

**Me [06:03]**  
youre still doing laps

**Laila [06:03]**  
jeremyy :(

 **Me [06:04]**  
no.

 **Laila [06:03]**  
u wouldnt make your bf do this

 **Me [06:04]**  
... shut up

 

They have lunch around their round wooden table with the same checked tablecloth they’ve used for years, and there are a dozen dishes passed to each other, and elbows knocking together, and a seemingly endless number of questions for Jeremy and Jean. They end up sitting next to each other, and whenever Jean tenses at a question about his family or where he’s from, Jeremy gently interrupts with a comment about the food or a question for someone else.

Jean doesn’t acknowledge the gesture, but some of the tension held in his shoulders eases. Eventually the meal comes to an end, as they finish their seconds and thirds and extra slices of dessert, and they start to clear away the table.

“And you haven’t gone to the beach yet today, have you?” Jeremy’s mother says with a disapproving look. “You’ll have to show Jean the family business, of course!”

“Okay, mamá,” Jeremy says, and then looks across the kitchen to meet Jean’s gray eyes. “We could go now, if you want. I have a feeling you’re going to like it.”

 

Jean stares at Jeremy, his arms crossed. For a long moment he doesn’t say anything, and then, “You are insane.”

“Debatable, but that’s not the point right now,” Jeremy says, giving Jean a toothy grin. “The point is that you’re going to learn how to surf.”

Jean gives the surfboard held in the crook of Jean’s arm a long, considering look, as if he’s trying to understand exactly which decisions have lead him to this moment and regretting them deeply, and finally shakes his head. “It’s not debatable.”

“My sanity, or you learning how to surf?” Jeremy asks, following Jean when he turns away towards the water. “Come on, you’re in Southern California. I’m pretty sure it’s a cardinal sin if you don’t try surfing at least once.”

“You really have no idea what a cardinal sin is,” Jean says, but there’s a hint of a smile on his mouth. He’s facing the ocean, the sunlight coming over the waves illuminating the edges of his face and bringing his scars into sharp relief. “Somehow I don’t remember ‘refusing to surf’ being one of the seven deadly sins.”

“That’s because you’ve never lived in California before,” Jeremy says with a laugh, and then sets the surfboard down on the sand. “I mean, my parents run a surf shop. If I don’t at least show you how to stand on a board, they’re going to kill me.”

“I doubt that,” Jean says, but he still turns to watch as Jeremy steps onto the board.

“It’s kind of like skateboarding, you know?” Jeremy explains, “You have to figure out which foot you need to have in front.” He pauses for a moment, looking at Jean’s confused expression. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never skateboarded before.”

“Exy demands single-minded focus,” Jean says automatically, and the way he flinches slightly at the words makes Jeremy think it must be something the Ravens’ coach used to say.

“Not the way we play it,” Jeremy says with forced lightness. He steps off the board and reaches a hand towards Jean, his fingers barely brushing against his wrist. “Here, you try. Just go with whatever feels the most natural.”

“ _Exy_ feels natural,” Jean says under his breath, but he steps onto the board. He’s an incongruous shadow between the golden shore and scattered tourists, dressed in black and glaring down at Jeremy. “This feels ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, I like ridiculous,” Jeremy says, smiling at Jean. “Now you just have to figure out how to go from paddling to being in that position.”

 _“Tu es vraiment fou,”_ Jean says. “I’m not doing that.”

“Was that a compliment?” Jeremy asks. “I know, I’m stunning.”

“Yeah, stunningly incompetent,” Jean says, but he’s smiling faintly.

Between the arguments and casual insults, Jeremy eventually convinces Jean to try to transition from lying on the board to snapping into position. It’s meant to be a fluid and instinctive movement, almost like something in an Exy game, and Jean catches on quickly. Still, the sun is about to set when they finally take the board back to the shop.

“I think they’re sleeping already,” Jeremy says, raising a finger to his lips as they climb the stairs up from the shop to the house. It’s quiet and dark, and Jeremy flips on a switch as they walk towards his room. “Lauren already staked claim on the guest bedroom, but we stacked a couple of mattresses in my room to make an extra bed. You can sleep on the couch in the living room, though, if you’d rather.”

“This is fine,” Jean says, throwing his duffel bag on the makeshift bed. He glances at Jeremy and then quickly away again, something in his expression tightening. “We were never alone in the Nest. It is… not something you unlearn quickly.”

Jeremy looks at Jean, trying to think of the right words. He thinks that he still hasn’t fully understood what Jean went through when he was playing for the Ravens, but there are moments when the light glances off of his scars or he says something like this, and he can see the edges of something terrible. Finally he lets out a quiet sigh and says, “Please tell me your pajamas aren’t black, too.”

Jean doesn’t laugh, but there’s a hint of it in his expression. “They are.”

“Not anymore,” Jeremy says, rummaging through his closet until he finds an oversized yellow shirt with his family’s surf shop logo on it. “Here, you can borrow this.”

“I doubt that it will fit,” Jean says as he takes the shirt. “You are remarkably short.”

“Fuck you, I’m average,” Jeremy says, but he’s laughing. “You’re the unnecessarily tall one. I don’t know, maybe you should give up on Exy and start playing basketball.”

“Don’t blaspheme,” Jean says as he leaves to change.

 

It’s still and dark when Jeremy wakes up, and for a long moment he isn’t sure what woke him. He sits up, glancing at his alarm clock through sleep hazed eyes. The red numbers say that it’s the early hours of the morning, and he turns over, about to pull his blanket around him and go back to sleep. And then he hears it again.

There’s a gasp of air, sharp and unsteady, and suddenly Jeremy is wide awake. Across the room, Jean is leaning his forehead against his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around them like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking. His breathing is harsh and fast, desperately trying to pull oxygen into his lungs.

“Jean?” Jeremy whispers, but he doesn’t respond. Jeremy hesitates for a long moment, and then gets out of bed, walking across the room and pausing next to Jean’s bed. His breathing hasn’t evened out, and in the faint moonlight Jeremy can see the way his eyes are tightly shut, his spine curled in on himself.

Jeremy hesitantly reaches out, his fingers brushing against Jean’s shoulder. “Jean -”

 _“Non,”_ Jean gasps out, and he flinches away from Jeremy’s touch so violently that his body slams into the wall. “Don’t touch me, _don’t,_ get away from me -”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy says, pulling his hand back instantly. Something in his chest aches as Jean shudders. “I’m sorry, Jean, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

He keeps mumbling reassurances as Jean’s breathing slowly evens out. Finally Jean opens his eyes, looking down at Jeremy. Something flashes across his expression, but it shutters closed again just as quickly. “I… had a nightmare. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jeremy says, and then because he doesn’t know what else to say, his lips pull into a hesitant smile. “Was it about surfing for the first time?”

“That is never happening,” Jean says automatically, and then breathes out a shaky laugh. “No. It was about something else.”

The tone of his voice makes it clear that Jeremy shouldn’t ask, and so Jeremy pauses, momentarily considering putting a hand on Jean’s shoulder before reconsidering it and simply going back to his own bed. “Good night again,” he says sleepily. “I hope you have better dreams now.”

There’s a long pause, and Jeremy is almost asleep again when Jean finally whispers, “Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day after realizing that i'd accidentally published the first chapter, i return with... whatever this is. also, sorry to anyone who thinks that jeremy is the taller one, bc no. i'm thinking about writing two more chapters, but idk yet. xoxo luna


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy wakes up early in the morning, the pale sunlight from the windows illuminating the room with a soft glow. It’s warm and comfortable under the covers, and he gets up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he yawns. Jean’s makeshift bed is already empty and tidily made, the neat corners a sharp contrast to the mess of blankets Jeremy leaves behind as he pads towards the kitchen.

There’s the smell of something with vanilla and sugar drifting through the house, and he can hear the quiet sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Jeremy pushes open the door, running his fingers through his messy curls as he blinks sleepily at the scene in front of him.

“Good morning!” Sophie chirps from where she’s sitting on the counter, with a bag of sugar balanced in her arms and flour dusted on her nose. “I’m helping Jean make creeps.”

 _“Crȇpes,”_ Jean corrects patiently, looking up to give Jeremy a half smile. He’s still wearing the yellow shirt Jeremy gave him last night, the soft sunlight brushing against the hollow of his collarbone, and Jeremy’s pulse goes unsteady for reasons that he isn’t going to examine too closely. “And they’re not really meant to have this much sugar.”

“Yes, they are,” Sophie says with a giggle, sprinkling more sugar on top of the batter that Jean is mixing together. He gives her an exasperated look, but there’s still a faint smile on his lips. “Mamá says that sugar and kisses fix everything.”

Jeremy turns to rummage in the cupboards for a coffee mug, stifling a yawn in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. As much as he enjoys dragging the Trojans to early morning practice, he’s never really awake until he’s had a cup of coffee or two. Or three.

“Yes, but more sugar is not going to fix these crȇpes,” Jean says, tipping the pan in a practiced motion to spread the batter thinly across it. Jeremy finally finds a coffee mug, a chipped flowery one that one of them must have painted in kindergarten, and starts the coffee maker.

Sophie hums contemplatively, leaning her chin in her hand. “Then Jeremy will have to give you kisses, probably.”

“He- I- what?” Jeremy sputters, nearly spilling the creamer. He stares at Jean, whose expression only gives away a brief flash of surprise, and then at Sophie, who blinks innocently back at him. “I mean - why would I kiss Jean?”

“Because Lauren says you’re boyfriends,” Sophie says, adding another sprinkle of sugar to the crȇpes. “And boyfriends kiss each other.”

“Well, yeah, but Lauren is-”

“Lauren is what?” Lauren says, sailing into the kitchen with their mother. She drops a kiss on Sophie’s head and then turns to Jeremy, propping a hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow dangerously.

“Lauren is lovable but misguided,” Jeremy finishes, waving the creamer in the air for emphasis. “We - I mean, Jean and I aren’t in a relationship.”

“Uh huh,” Lauren says, her eyebrows raising to new heights. “You know, that might be more believable if he wasn’t wearing your shirt right now.”  

“That’s -” Jeremy starts, but his mother interrupts him with a smile.

 _“Bueno,_ Jeremy, whatever you two are, I think you are very cute,” she says, patting him on the cheek. She turns to Jean, oohing at the plate of crȇpes. “Oh, a French breakfast! Thank you so much, dear, you didn’t have to.”

“Sophie helped,” Jean says, and Sophie launches into an explanation of how she added extra sugar, and eventually they all settle down at the table to have breakfast. Jeremy’s mother showers Jean with compliments and questions about the recipe, which he answers haltingly, and Jeremy and Lauren aim a few kicks at each other from the under the table, but slowly calm returns.

“Oh goodness, did Jean make crȇpes?” Jeremy’s stepfather says as he wanders into the kitchen in his pajamas, pushing his glasses up to keep them from slipping down the bridge of his nose. “That boy’s a keeper, Jeremy.”

Jean glances across the table at Jeremy with an amused look, and Jeremy buries his head in his hands.

 

 **Me [04:23]**    
wh y does everyone in my family think im dating jean

 **Laila [04:25]**  
idk man maybe stop w the heart eyes

 **Me [04:25]**  
?? what

 **Me [04:25]**  
i have never made heart eyes at anyone, ever, in my life

 **Laila [04:26]**  
its so cute how u really believe that

 

When Jeremy thinks of home, he thinks of the ocean. There’s something about the gentle movement of the waves and the golden expanse of surf that brings him back to a hundred other memories: Lauren with unlaced sneakers and a bright smile, his mother pressing a kiss to his forehead, the rush he felt the first time he played Exy. Sometimes, he isn’t sure if he’s in love with the ocean or just his memories.

He closes his eyes, smiling up at the sun above him as gentle waves move the surfboard he’s lying on up and down. “You’re staring at me.”

“No, I am wondering how you are even a passable Exy player,” Jean says, “when this is your idea of training. You haven’t so much as glanced at an Exy stick.”

“Passable?” Jeremy says with a toothy grin, turning his head to look at where Jean is sitting on a surfboard next to him. “I feel so proud right now, really. I think I’m going to cry.”

Jean turns his eyes upward, saying something under his breath in French. The golden sunlight brushes against him, catching the edge of his jawline and bringing faded scars into highlight. “You know what I mean.”

“We’ve only been here for a few weeks,” Jeremy says, tracing his hand across the waves and watching the shifting water. “And anyway, I’m teaching you how to surf.”

“Somehow I still haven’t understood how that is relevant to playing Exy.”

“Come on, not everything has to be about playing Exy,” Jeremy says, laughing. “Sometimes you just have to do something because you want to.”

“I was raised to play Exy,” Jean says, his voice blunt. “I always knew that I belonged to the Moriyamas. If I had wanted anything else, it would only have hurt."

Jeremy looks at Jean for a long moment, tracing the scars on his face, the number three inked on his cheekbone, the crooked edge of his nose, until finally he finds his voice again. “Yeah, well, fuck them. You can want anything.”

Jean looks back at Jeremy, and his lips tip up into a smile.

 

“When I said you can want anything,” Jeremy says, gasping, “this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“You said yourself,” Jean grits out through his teeth, a bead of sweat falling across the line of his jaw, “the only reason the Foxes won last year is because you lacked endurance.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were going to make me run a fucking marathon,” Jeremy says, forcing his aching legs to propel him forward. They’re running alongside the cliffs, past flowers gently shifting in the breeze and the deep turquoise waves of the ocean below them, which Jeremy kind of wants to throw himself into right now. “Why any sane human would willingly put themselves through this torture -”

“It has only been two hours,” Jean says, somehow managing to still sound dismissive through the harsh sound of his breathing. “In the Nest we would train for far longer.”

“Right, because everyone there deserved a shining award for their sanity,” Jeremy says, and Jean gasps out something that’s close to a laugh. His footsteps beat an even staccato rhythm against the sandy path, and Jeremy thinks that he could easily outpace him if he wanted to. He isn’t sure if the thought makes him feel more impressed or annoyed.

“Last hundred meters,” Jean says, somehow managing to run even faster, and no, he’s definitely more annoyed. He pushes himself harder, barely managing to catch up to Jean again as they bolt down the path. His lungs ache, his muscles screaming as he forces them to keep going, until -

“Okay,” Jean gasps out, finally slowing as they reach the place they’d started from.

“Laila was right,” Jeremy says, stumbling a few steps to the side before collapsing on the soft grass. He gasps for breath, cursing himself for making any of the small decisions that have led to him lying here, feeling like he’s just been run over by a truck. “You really are trying to kill me.”

“Stop being melodramatic,” Jean says, circling back at a slow jog before finally stopping in front of Jeremy. “This is the path to defeating the Foxes.”

“No, I’m pretty sure this is the path to the ninth circle of hell,” Jeremy says, turning his head to to look at Jean. He’s lifted the edge of his shirt to dry off sweat, and Jeremy is definitely not staring at his stomach, at all. “Why do you want to beat them so badly, anyway? I mean, it’s your girlfriend’s team.”

Jean stares at Jeremy. “What do you… Oh. Renee isn’t my girlfriend.”

“She isn’t?” Jeremy says, surprised. “But you still text with her. And she… I mean, I just assumed you were dating.”

“I think I would know if I was dating her,” Jean says shortly, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. He’s looking away slightly, and there’s a slight flush on his cheekbones that Jeremy is almost certain hadn’t been there before. “We… maybe, for a while, but I realized… I don’t like her that way. Or women, generally.”

“You… _oh,”_ Jeremy says, suddenly realizing what he means. “Oh.”

“That is not a problem for you?” Jean says, his tone halfway between a statement and a question, and Jeremy shakes his head.

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Jeremy says, and he really has no idea why he’s blushing right now, or why there’s a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “I mean - I can like pretty much anyone. Uh, not that it matters.”

“No,” Jean echoes quietly, looking back at Jeremy. “Not that it matters.”

“Anyway, it’s getting late, so we should probably head back now,” Jeremy says, pushing himself back up to his feet. He gives Jean a toothy grin. “I think I heard Lauren say something about pizza, and there’s no way in hell I’m missing out on that.”

“You are unbelievable,” Jean says, shaking his head, but he still smiles back.

 

 **Me [09:57]**  
so ,, hypothetically speaking

 **Me [09:57]**  
if i hypothetically had a crush on a boy

 **Me [09:57]**  
and he hypothetically wasnt as straight as i thought he was

 **Me [09:58]**  
what would you, hypothetically, say i should do

 **Laila [09:59]**  
id hypothetically say that u should tell jean how you feel

 **Laila [09:59]**  
and that you suck at hypotheticals lmao

 **Me [10:00]**  
fuck u 

  
**Me [10:03]**  
also thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the penultimate chapter! tbh i headcanon jeremy as someone who's almost as bad at coming out as i am, which is saying a lot. oh and i forgot to mention this before, but the title is from the song by josé gonzález. xo


	4. Chapter 4

There are a handful of things that have always defined Jeremy, for as long as he can remember. And one of those things is his complete inability to let go of a crazy idea once he’s thought of it. He’s chased after goals that sounded impossible to everyone else, agreed to countless dares and broken bones completing half of them, became the captain of the Trojans and insisted that if they wanted to be worth anything as a team, they would play against the Foxes on equal footing.

No matter how difficult the challenge, he’s never hesitated. Which is why telling Jean that he likes him should be no problem. He just has to find a moment when they’re alone, casually say that he has something to tell him, and then -

“Uh… you have something in your hair,” Jeremy says, inwardly cursing himself. He reaches out, gently picking out the leaf caught in Jean’s hair, and then suddenly realizes how close he is to Jean, who’s staring down at him with an unreadable expression. “Um. That’s all.”

“Thank you,” Jean says finally, looking away slightly and putting a hand on the back of his neck. Jeremy would be offended by how attractive it makes him look, if everything about Jean wasn’t offensive, anyway.

They’re quiet as they walk towards the beach, barefoot with surfboards held under the crooks of their arms. The sun is high in the sky above them, casting warm light over the azure waves, and Jeremy can hear seagulls where they’re flying above the ocean. Even though he knows that summer is drawing to a close, something about the golden landscape feels eternal and unchanging, like a moment outside of time.

_I’ll tell him before it ends,_ he promises himself.

Their surfing lessons have paid off, and Jean looks natural and graceful on his board, his frame following the movement of wave easily as they surf. As in love with playing Exy as Jeremy is, there’s something about the moment of suspension when he’s balanced on a wave that’s impossible to replicate. He thinks that it’s as close to flying as he’s ever felt.

He gives Jean a toothy grin as they wait for another wave to come. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jean says, his smile wide and bright, and Jeremy’s heart sings.

Later, when they’re walking back from the beach, rinsed in saltwater and dusted in sand, Jean looks at Jeremy curiously. “Why did you start playing Exy? You could have surfed instead.”

“Doesn’t that count as blasphemy?” Jeremy says lightly, but Jean only looks at him, waiting for him to answer. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “When I was eight, my dad left. Just woke up one day and decided he’d had enough of us, and that was it.”

If he was telling anyone else they’d have started apologizing now, as if it was somehow their fault, but Jean is silent. “I used to hate myself for not asking why, but now I just wish I’d punched him when I had the chance.” He pauses, smiling in a way that isn’t really a smile at all.

“Things were hard after he left. My mom was working two jobs, and Lauren wanted to go to art school, so it was going to be hard enough just paying for that. There wasn’t any way I could go to college if I didn’t have a scholarship, and I knew you could get them for Exy.”

“So you started playing Exy because you had to,” Jean says. There’s something quiet and understanding in his expression, and Jeremy thinks that it’s better than any apology.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, and then he looks at Jean and gives him a toothy grin. “I’m glad I did, though. Otherwise you might have never had the chance to experience my amazing personality.”

“That would only be a loss for you,” Jean says, but his lips are pulling up at the corners.  

“Shut up, I know you love me,” Jeremy says, looping an arm around Jean’s shoulders, and he shakes his head with a laugh but doesn’t move away from Jeremy. The sun is shining down on them, and Jean is warm and solid next to him, and summer still feels endless.

 

But time moves on, and as weeks slip into days and Jeremy still hasn’t told Jean, he starts to feel a little panicked. He tries shouting it out at him while they’re at the beach, but he loses his nerve at the last minute and just scares the nearby tourists. He whispers it too quietly, changes his mind a hundred times, and tells nearly everyone except for Jean that he has a crush on Jean.

Finally he decides to try making breakfast to tell him over, but cooking has never been his strong suit, and Jean is so offended by the concept of microwaveable Eggos that Jeremy gives up on telling him.   

 

**Me [08:03]**  
im dying here how do i tell him

**Me [08:03]**  
fuck feelings theyre impossible

 

“These... frozen cardboard items are not even edible,” Jean says, tossing them in the garbage while he pulls together the ingredients for omelettes. “They do not deserve to be called _food.”_

 

**Laila [08:04]**  
patience young grasshopper

**Laila [08:04]**  
youll find the right moment

 

“In France we believe that the quality of the food you prepare is equal to your motivation in life,” Jean says as he efficiently whisks the eggs and adds a delicate sprinkling of salt and pepper. “Toasting pieces of garbage is therefore considered a clear sign of despair.”

 

**Me [08:04]** **  
** im desperate ok i tried making eggos

**Laila [08:05]**  
… you do know he’s french right

**Me [08:05]**  
excuse me for not having a michelin star

 

“If you do not even value the preparation that goes into a meal, nothing is sacred in life,” Jean says, raising his spatula in the air to emphasize the point. “A soulless meal creates a soulless existence.”

 

**Laila [08:06]**  
i give up dude u can ask alvarez

**Laila [08:06]** **  
** hey its alvarez

**Laila [08:06]** **  
** whats up

**Me [08:07]** **  
** idk how to tell jean that i like him

**Laila [08:07]** **  
** channel nike and just do it man

**Laila [08:08]** **  
** i mean either he likes u or he doesnt

 

Jean adds another sprinkle of sea salt to the omelettes and a handful of fresh herbs that Jeremy didn’t even know they had. He sets the plates on the table. “This, if you are even capable of recognizing it, is real food. Unlike those abominations you call iggos.”

 

**Laila [08:09]** **  
** and either way u can still flee the country

**Me [08:09]** **  
** i might have to anyway, i made eggos

**Laila [08:10]** **  
** … u do know he’s french right

 

He steadily misses chances to tell Jean until time eventually catches up with him, and it’s the last day before they go back to college. Every time that they have a moment to talk Jeremy wills himself just to tell him, but somehow he can’t bring himself to open his mouth, shape the words that will tell Jean how he feels. And then he’s caught up in packing and checklists and reassuring his mother that no, he won’t forget to call her when they get back, until the day has slipped by and it’s already evening.

His family prepares an extravagant goodbye meal as they tearfully remember memories from the summer, although to be fair, Jeremy isn’t sure if the tears are from reminiscing or cutting onions.

“... so polite, and such a good cook,” his mother says, pausing from chopping to wipe away the tears in her eyes. She gives Jean a misty-eyed smile. “Oh, you would be such a wonderful son-in-law, dear.”

“Let’s slow down on the wedding planning -” Jeremy starts to say, but Lauren is already talking about color schemes and bouquets, and Sophie is pulling on Jean’s sleeve to ask if she can be the flower girl.

“All right,” Jean agrees, looking across the kitchen to give Jeremy a half smile that really shouldn’t look that attractive. Sophie bounces around the kitchen to telling everyone that she’s going to be the flower girl, and Jeremy is so distracted that he keeps pulling the wrong thing out of the cupboard until Lauren sighs dramatically and goes to get it herself, and his mother is trying to invite Jean to stay indefinitely. Finally order pulls out of the chaos, and they settle down to have dinner.

They eat and laugh and tease each other, and Jean fits into all of it, too, as if they’ve already decided to make him a part of the family. Which they have, Jeremy thinks, each in their own way: Lauren with her jokes, Sophie with her adoration, his mother with her care, his stepfather with his absentminded smiles. He hadn’t told them about Jean’s past, but somehow they must have still felt it.

The meal is the good kind that makes you feel warm and tired afterwards, and Jeremy falls into bed almost as soon as he’s brushed his teeth. Across the room, Jean looks at him, his black hair untidy, still wearing the yellow shirt Jeremy had given him in the beginning, and Jeremy smiles softly. He thinks that he could tell him now, but sleep is already pulling at him, and so he only whispers, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Jean says quietly, and he turns off the light.

 

This time, like the first time, it’s a moment before Jeremy realizes why he woke up.

This time, though, he doesn’t try to reach out to Jean while he dreams. He says his name and whispers reassurances, and waits in the dark while Jean struggles to bring his breathing back until control, his heart aching. Eventually Jean opens his eyes, glossy with unshed tears, and looks at Jeremy.

“Do you want to go on a walk somewhere?” Jeremy asks quietly, because it’s the only thing he thinks he can say, and Jean nods.

It’s a cold night, and Jeremy watches their breath clouding in the air as they walk towards the beach. Jean’s breathing is still slightly unsteady, and Jeremy is quiet, waiting as he collects himself again.

The sun hasn’t risen yet, but there’s enough moonlight when they reach the beach that Jeremy can see the soft waves brushing against the shore, and the edges of Jean’s face as he watches the ocean silently. Above them, the sky is the color of charcoal, with stars scattered across it like so many tapestries. No one else is awake yet, and it feels as though they’re alone in the world.

“I grew up in Marseille,” Jean says, finally. He keeps looking towards the ocean. “My grandmother’s house was next to the ocean, and sometimes I would go there when my father was working.”

Jeremy doesn’t say anything, and only listens to him quietly.

“After I was sent to the Nest, I thought that I would never see the ocean again,” he says, and looks at Jeremy, his expression calm and still. “I was sure that eventually, I would die there.”

“You didn’t, though,” Jeremy says, reaching out to catch Jean’s wrist in his hand. His pulse beats there, steady and sure. “You survived.”

“Yes,” Jean says, and then he’s stepping towards Jeremy, and he’s kissing him.

It feels like falling, or making a promise, or biting into ice cream on a summer day. It feels like laughter and stars and saying yes. It feels like kissing Jean, and kissing him, and kissing him.

Finally they break apart to breath shakily against each other’s lips, and Jeremy smiles, his hands tracing along Jean’s arms, up his shoulders, catching in his soft hair. He wants to touch him forever, or at least for as long as it takes to memorize every part of him. “I was too afraid to tell you.”

Jean leans closer to him, presses a kiss against his jaw. “You still did.”

 

They leave early in the morning, after saying almost a hundred goodbyes to Jeremy’s family, and being given too many mugs of coffee and packages of baked goods to carry. Sophie nearly cries until Jean promises to come back next summer, and Lauren hugs both of them so tightly that Jeremy is worried she’ll crack one of their ribs, and they all stand in the doorway and wave as the car pulls away. Jean watches in the rearview mirror until the house fades away in the distance, smiling faintly.

There isn’t any traffic this early in the morning, and they listen to the radio and drink all of the coffee and argue about how many of the cakes to eat, because Jeremy wants to eat all of them and Jean is saying something entirely unhelpful about fruit and vegetables. The miles steadily go by, and Jean eventually falls asleep again, curled up against the door with Jeremy’s sweatshirt to pillow his head.

Jeremy hums, watching as the sun slowly rises in the sky and the landscape shifts again from cliffs and wildflowers to golden fields and houses with tidy gardens. Jean wakes up again when they’ve almost reached the college, and he smiles at Jeremy, his expression warm.

It’s almost noon when they arrive at the dorms, and as they get out of the car Jeremy checks his phone, where there are dozens of messages from his teammates. He smiles, looking up at Jean.

“You know, it’s Trojans tradition to hold hands with your boyfriend on campus.”

“Tradition?” Jean says with a raised eyebrow, but he still takes Jeremy’s offered hand.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, leaning in to give Jean a kiss on the cheek. “You’re stuck with me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well folks, we made it! this whole thing was an accident and tbh i had no idea what i was doing, but it was a lot of fun and i'm super thankful to anyone who left kudos, commented, or read this :) i hope that you enjoyed it! ♡ xoxo luna


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